


Pot Kettle Black

by yuffiehighwind



Category: IT Crowd
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-01
Updated: 2007-12-01
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: Roy gets Jen stoned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between S2E4 "The Dinner Party" and S2E5 "Smoke and Mirrors." Follows the events of my fanfic [The Party](http://archiveofourown.org/works/587515). I apologize in advance if I get some words and phrases wrong. It's because I'm an American.

"How did you make it to thirty without ever smoking a joint?"  
  
"Excuse me, but I didn't _say_ 'never,' I said 'not in a while.'"  
  
Roy played with the lighter in his pocket and watched Jen pull a pack of cigarettes out of her handbag. It had all but a skull and crossbones on the cover. He smirked at the hypocrisy.  
  
"Not since uni, you mean. Admit it, you tried it once and coughed up a lung. I can see you now with your girlfriends giggling over it in your cardigans and capris..."  
  
She shot him a glare, but he could see a flash of amusement behind it. She looked away, and to the careful observer, looked as though she didn't care if the wind took her cigarette, or like she hoped it would. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips, drawing Roy's eyes to where her lipstick rubbed off on the tip of the filter.  
  
"Come on," she barked, snapping him out of it. He pulled out the lighter and opened it with a click. He cupped his hand around the flame as she leaned forward, cig in her mouth, to catch the fire. She inhaled like it was the giver of life.  
  
Exhaling, Jen gave him another look, as though asking if there was something on her face. He stopped staring and shook his head, putting the lighter back.  
  
"What about the smoking ban?" he asked.  
  
Jen laughed a puff of smoke. "Like I care."  
  
"Then why would you care about the illegality of certain other inhalable substances? I bet you were _that_ girl at uni. The one who twittered like a nitwit whenever she caught even a whiff of the stuff."  
  
"No, no, you've got it all wrong. I was a real party girl back then. You may not see it now, but I...got up to a few things."  
  
"Like what things? Name _one_ crazy thing."  
  
"Like...Oh, I've got a good one! Like the time my mates and I went to Ibiza on holiday. I swiped my mother's credit card to pay for it. You should have seen the look on her face when she saw the charges."  
  
"Of countless mimosas and dishes of paella. What a rebel."  
  
"You joke, but I got in a lot of trouble for that trip."  
  
Jen leaned against the wall and shut her eyes, the smoke curling around her. Roy leaned beside her and wondered why he waited up for her. She wasn't any more interesting outside of work than she was nagging him from her office.  
  
"Meet any fit Spanish blokes?"  
  
"Mmm, yes. Well, just the one. Though nothing really...well..."  
  
He nudged her shoulder with his. "Go _on_ ," he prodded mock-girlishly. "Was he _cute_?"  
  
Jen smiled. "I was absolutely mad for him, but, erm, it didn't go so well. You see..."  
  
"He too thought stealin' Mum's card was the crime of a lifetime?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"He was married."  
  
She laughed mirthlessly. "No."  
  
"He had three nipples."  
  
Jen took another drag of her cigarette and spoke before Roy could add more things to the list.  
  
"He was gay."  
  
Roy tried to look sympathetic and failed.  
  
"Ah, I see how that can be a problem."  
  
"Ah, but he was a fun boy to be around. He took us dancing and motorbike riding. We went to the beach, had drinks, swam..."  
  
Roy wasn't one to talk, considering his adventures abroad had been as lame as, well, getting drunk and _not_ having sex with a prostitute. (Though he _had_ won her a stuffed bear at the carnival.) But that was recent. Quarter life crises were forgivable. Surely university had been a better time?  
  
Surely?  
  
He couldn't remember. He teased her anyway.  
  
"You haven't lived, Jen."  
  
She started to ask him who was he to belittle her ordinariness, when her cigarette burned down. She chucked it on the ground, then squished it into ash with the toe of her shoe. Sighing, she pushed her bag further up her shoulder and thought of what to get for dinner. She had to wait for her next paycheck, having used the last one on her stacking bills, so it'd be beans on toast. Again.  
  
Roy also wondered what to eat for dinner, and considering he had just wasted the rest of his budget on their topic of conversation, resigned to having beans on toast. _Eh. Not bad._  
  
"So, what are you doing tonight, other than breaking several laws? Where's Moss?"  
  
"Beans on toast," he mumbled. "Er, Moss is visiting relatives. Said it was an emergency."  
  
The emergency was, in fact, his father. He and Moss' mother had separated back in his youth but continued to talk for Moss' sake, even well into his adulthood. Moss served as the liaison between his estranged parents, so when the news came his father had fallen ill, he had to join his mother at the hospital in Essex to negotiate the paperwork. Cautious people to a fault, the slightest sniffle sent them into a frenzy to update their wills based on whatever new information arose. (Though neither parent had much to leave their son in the will, nor much desire to leave it at all.) Roy felt sorry for him, but Moss took it all in stride, as he often did, considering this an opportunity to try and reconnect the family he'd lost touch with, including his half-siblings. Who, like their ailing father, all smoked like chimneys. This irony didn't cross Roy or Jen's minds as they puffed, but it was probably worth noting if they had.  
  
"Really? I thought the two of you were inseparable. Kinda like--"  
  
"Yes, I know, I'm his wife," Roy grumbled bitterly.  
  
Jen tilted her head. "I was going to say you'd be the husband, but whatever floats your boat."  
  
He noticed her grinning in that sort of mad Jen way she did when she was making an unfunny joke and didn't realize it. It was cute.  
  
"And what will you be up to? Catching up on some work?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, no, I leave all that behind me. Need to keep sane."  
  
Roy looked offended, though he wasn't really. He understood perfectly. Anyone who didn't know how to reboot an operating system when it had an error message (which was everyone at Reynholm Industries), and incessantly called downstairs about such mundane problems as program crashes, could drive anyone mad. That was not what Jen meant, but that's what crossed Roy's mind.  
  
"I have something that could help," he said, arching an eyebrow and winking obviously. Jen humored him by exaggeratedly nudging him in the ribs. She overshot her strength and he stifled an "Ouch."  
  
"I'll bet you do," she said. "I could really use another smoke. It's that damn office. It's stifling me." She went to rifle around for one when Roy reached out and touched her wrist to stop her. She looked up.  
  
"I know exactly what you mean."  
  
He tried to look charming and sly all at once, like a slacker James Bond, but only came off as sketchy as usual. Jen noticed the effort though, and pushed her hair out of her face.  
  
"Come to my place," Roy said, meaning everything the phrase could ever mean in just a few low toned syllables. Jen only heard the explicit interpretation.  
  
"No!" she said, swatting his arm. "You'll not pull me down this road, for it is where temptation lies!" Roy made a quizzical face and Jen just shrugged. "I'm not smoking dope with you."  
  
"Just a little bit," he said. "Just one bowl. Please. We'll have beans on toast."  
  
Jen rolled her eyes. "You sure know how to please a girl. Fine. Lead the way."  
  
Hiding his joy at this small victory, not even sure what he was winning, Roy went to call for a cab when he remembered they had been standing at a bus stop and two buses had already passed. He also didn't remember where Jen lived and knew she'd be disgusted by his own home. It was a dilemma.  
  
"Erm, how about we go to _your_ place. Now I think of it, mine is...well...the cleaners are...It's kind of..." He made gestures to try and indicate smallness and a rank atmosphere, but only came across as some kind of drunk mime. Jen backtracked immediately.  
  
"Oh, no no no, you are not coming back into my home. Not one of you, not after..." Especially not Richmond. Or her friend Jessica, for that matter. _Urrkk..._  
  
"But it's such a lovely place! You, uh...decorate it so well. The colors are coordinated. There's a table with chairs. And you have a fridge that works."  
  
At this point, Jen's mind couldn't even process what Roy was implying about his flat, then thought of what her landlord would say if he'd found her smoking pot, sniffing it out somehow. His dog looked suspiciously like one that police brought around crime scenes and airports to find drugs. She loathed the thought of such an encounter.  
  
"Fine, forget it. I'm going home. It's not like you wouldn't have to drop 'round there, and then come back uptown to my flat with it, and all that trouble for what? A couple of puffs?" Her hand itched to her handbag again. She could just light a cig and be done with it.  
  
Roy shook his head. "No, er..." His hand went to his pockets and Jen's eyes widened. She imagined her boss now, in her office, with dogs.  
  
"Are you mad?" she exclaimed, but Roy just rolled his eyes at her.  
  
"You foolish, uptight woman. You could sweep the floor with the stick up your arse." _Had he just said that?_  
  
That was the last straw. "Fine! Let's go. You don't know me. Don't think I can't loosen up, have a good time. How dare you even...Forget it."  
  
The bus arrived then and the two boarded, sitting on opposite sides and not looking at each other until Jen stood up. Roy followed her out and onto the sidewalk. It looked familiar.  
  
Trying to break the tension, he said, "We could get something other than beans on toast, ya know."  
  
"Shut up."

 

* * *

  
  
Well this was awkward.  
  
Every single neighbor in the building took a double take as they passed, unable to equate the smartly dressed career woman with her slacker companion. Roy felt self-conscious, but Jen climbed the stairs to her flat like any other trip home, tromping and sighing and loosening her jacket, jingling her keys extra loudly as she opened the lock, then pushing the door open with her shoulder. This Jen didn't look as concerned with appearance as the one Roy knew and he found himself liking it.  
  
But as they entered the flat and Jen kicked her heels off by the door, Roy was taken aback by how _feminine_ everything was. It was only his third visit to her home, and he was only just noticing she seemed the sort of woman who in some ways hadn't progressed beyond adolescence. Following her into the kitchen, his eyes passed over the teddy bear-shaped oven mitts hanging over her stove. There was a china set, its teapot nestled in a bright pink, knitted tea cosy, though the battle-worn electric kettle next to it had seen more action. The walls were outfitted in an eye-numbing floral pattern, her fridge covered with kittens, and the nauseating stench of vanilla wafted from an air freshener somewhere. His senses were assaulted by this and more, and Roy became certain he had entered some forgotten level of Dante's Hell.  
  
Putting the kettle on, Jen and her purse, which was still slung over her shoulder, went in that zombie-like way across the kitchenette to take two teabags from a rabbit-shaped holder. Roy, wanting to help, went to search the cabinets for mugs and found a blank one and one sporting another kitten. That'd do.  
  
Jen's bag began to slip off her shoulder, so he placed the mugs on the counter and caught it. Feeling his hands brush her back, Jen turned around with a start and bumped into him front-first. The kitchenette's size shrunk in that moment, because they were nose-to-nose. Or rather, forehead-to-chin. The two shifted awkwardly and swapped places, Roy trying again to be helpful and find some food.  
  
Jen had to stop him.  
  
"Roy, go sit down. I'll fix the tea."  
  
"I can do it."  
  
"That's alright, really, it's too small in here for that."  
  
"But I do the best beans on toast. You'll love it. I have a secret ingredient."  
  
Jen's mind immediately went to psychedelic mushrooms, based on the new revelations she was discovering about her coworker this evening, but she kept her mouth shut and gave him the benefit of the doubt.  
  
At her strange look, he explained, "Cheese."  
  
Jen blinked. _Some secret._ "Roy, cheese is a given. I did grow up here you know." She waved her hand, gesturing from his feet to his head. "Isn't your comfort food some sort of...beer stew or cabbage or something?" She didn't say potatoes. Or Lucky Charms. Bless her.  
  
Roy shook his head. "How 'bout _you_ sit down and let the master work."  
  
She laughed. "Okay, Gordon Ramsey, far be it for me to interrupt the master chef." She set her bag on the counter and looked down. Picking up the white mug, she said, "Oy, this is mine. You can have the kitten." She held it up and smiled cutely.  
  
Finding the beans and bread and getting out the saucepan, Roy frowned. "It's just a blank cup." He was NOT drinking tea from that...that _toothache_.  
  
Jen just smirked and turned the cup upside down, the bottom facing her coworker. It was an especially unflattering photo of her mid-lecture. Roy just shut his mouth and nodded.

Present from Moss.

* * *

 

  
Jen had to admit, it was the best beans on toast she'd had in a while. Roy was oddly delighted that she had a toaster oven in which to melt strips of mature cheddar over the bread. Two slices each on her best plates (they were made to be eaten off of, after all) covered with just the right amount of Heinz' Baked. Jen stirred the tea, brought the sugar over to the table, and the two sat down to a nice meal on a budget.  
  
A few minutes in, Jen was struck by the absurdity of this unexpected union. This was Roy. (Did he even have a last name?) What was she doing letting the prat into her home?  
  
_Oh. Right._  
  
"So, er, should I see what's on telly?"  
  
Roy chewed noisily, then looked up, remembering who he was with. Miss Cat Fancier. Of the pink woolen things. His boss.  
  
"So..."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They chewed, their minds spinning on no one thing, but remembering the agreement that had brought them to this moment.  
  
Feeling shy, like a girl at a party waiting for a boy to ask her to dance, Jen let the silence stretch. Roy felt the same way. Joking in front of Reynholm's, the topic was broached so naturally, and now it felt like the elephant in the room. He felt around in his pocket and took out the bag and pipe. Fiddling with the lighter, he looked up at her, then at her plate. He looked briefly distraught.  
  
"I should have waited on the food 'til I'd got you high. It's delicious when you're high."  
  
Jen looked uncomfortable, but tried to act cool. "So you gonna smoke me up or what?"  
  
Roy put down the lighter and picked up the bag of green. Jen looked at it like it was a curiosity or museum feature. Roy tried not to roll his eyes.  
  
Speaking like a primary school teacher, he said, "This, Jen, is called marijuana. You smoke it and it feels good."  
  
Jen picked up her mug and gave him a look. "Stop taking the piss, I know this. I've done this before."  
  
Roy shook his head. "For a woman who smokes like a chimney, you sure look like some kind of mouse meeting a cat for the first time." He reached out to cover her hand with his. "It's me, Roy. It'll be fine. We'll have fun."  
  
She pulled her hand away. "Just pack the bowl."

 

* * *

  
  
"No no no, you're doing it wrong!"  
  
The two sat on the floor of Jen's living room leaned against the sofa, Jen grasping the pipe like she'd never even heard of the concept, trying to flick the lighter and failing miserably. She was used to flicking a lighter. Oh yes, she was a master. But usually it was upright, not held upside down so the flame licked her fingertip, then going out if she didn't inhale just in time.  
  
"Then do it for me."  
  
"Fine, hold the pipe up to your mouth. Cover that hole with your thumb."  
  
"Like this?"  
  
"No, like...Let me show you."

Roy lit and smoked the pipe like it was a natural instinct, and Jen couldn't imagine where such a nerd had learned such an attractive looking trick.  
  
"Like that," he said, the smoke coming out with his words.  
  
Jen took the pipe and lighter and tried again, but couldn't get it to light. Her eyes crossed as she watched the bowl, her lips on the end like a codfish.  
  
Roy snatched the lighter and held it expertly. "I'll light it. Go on. Inhale 'til I say stop. And _don't_ exhale."  
  
Jen took far too deep a breath, the smoke burning down the back of her throat and into her lungs like a warm ghost. She stopped when he said stop, took her thumb off the hole when the orange crackle of flame in the bowl died, held it in her chest until she could no longer, and coughed, the smoke cloud hitting Roy clear in the face. Jen doubled over coughing, so Roy rubbed her back, then scurried up to get her a glass of water. There were tears in her eyes when he returned, and he was concerned until she made a noise almost like a laugh.  
  
"What...whoa...I..."  
  
"That was terrible," Roy said, a smile tugging at his lips. He watched Jen gulp the water down, putting out the fire in the back of her throat. Some drops remained on her lips, and again he found himself looking, then forcing his gaze away.  
  
He took the pipe back and took another expertly toke, then handed it back to Jen. She put her hand up.  
  
"I think one was--"  
  
"Not nearly enough. Come on, you can do another."  
  
 Jen did, coughing less, then stared into space. Her limbs felt tingly already. Did that mean she was a lightweight? Was there a special term for it among pot smokers? Jen got up and sat on the sofa. She passed the pipe down to Roy and already it was her turn again. This time she tried to fiddle with the lighter, and it took a few tries, but she got the pipe to light. She only got a little smoke. Roy took the lighter back again, then lit it for her as he'd done before. This hit was a better one. She felt this one. She felt one with the universe. Or at least with the sofa.  
  
And so it went, back and forth, much quicker than Jen thought it'd take, until the bowl was gone and Roy considered packing another one. This was too good a night to waste, being in this place. The company was unfortunate, as was the decor, but the sofa was soft and the radiator emitted a pleasant heat. Roy flicked the television on and wondered what Jen had for soda.  
  
"Want something to drink?" he asked her, but she just lay down on the sofa and stared at the television. A chat show was on and she giggled at it.  
  
"I couldn't possibly," Jen twittered, to which he replied he was going to raid her soda stash, and she asked him to get her a cola, whatever kind was in there.  
  
Opening the fridge, Roy knew he'd hit the jackpot. He grabbed two colas and opened the freezer door, finding a half-eaten container of chocolate ice cream - a staple of any single woman's foodstuffs. Grabbing two spoons and taking the lot back into the living room, Roy felt pleasantly fuzzy, until he saw the program his coworker was watching.  
  
"This is rubbish," he said, changing the channel. Reaching out in vain for the remote, Jen didn't leave her spot on the sofa but instead whined for him to change it back. _Ah, a good crime mystery. This is more like it._  
  
"Roy, change it back!"  
  
"I got you some ice cream." He handed her the container and a spoon, then cracked open his soda and took a sip.  
  
"Roy," she said, her voice quieter. She hadn't touched the ice cream. She was on a hunger strike.  
  
"Roy, change it back."  
  
"Not a chance."  
  
Since he was sitting on the floor in front of her, Jen could reach down and snatch the remote. He tried to wrestle it back, but she clutched it to the one place he couldn't go - to her bosom. She changed it to the awful chat show and smiled hugely.  
  
"Aw, no, why can't we watch something we both like?"  
  
"Because this is _my_ flat, and _my_ home, and _my_ carpeting that will never get this stench out. Oh my God, I am not high enough."  
  
Lying back on the couch, she handed the ice cream to him to open. He did, then dipped a spoon in for a large bite and began to eat. Jen poked him with her own spoon, so he handed it back. Back and forth they went, until Roy's mind nearly melted from the inanity of the program they were watching and he shoved the chocolate back under Jen's nose.  
  
"Roy," she said, snapping open her soda and taking noisy sips. She poked him with her foot. "What's your last name?" She said it more as a statement than a question, so Roy didn't respond. He concentrated on the tiny leaves in front of him.  
  
"I bet it's something like O'Donnell. You seem like an O'Something."  
  
She began listing Irish surnames and Roy almost snapped at her for being a twit, but felt far too easygoing in the moment to do so. She was the one who got his paychecks from Accounting, every envelope of which was stamped with his full name. How could she not know?  
  
But even though they'd been working together for a year, he hardly ever saw her outside of work. Then again, he was hardly ever outside of work to begin with. A holiday eluded him and he never wondered why, since he couldn't contemplate one without Moss, nor trust Moss to go abroad with him again after the incident in Amsterdam. He almost wondered what Jen would get up to in Amsterdam, but the thoughts strayed to the absurd - nay, indecent - and he leaned his head back on the sofa to shut his eyes and feel the high.  
  
The back of his head met flesh, and he realized it was Jen, curled up on the edge of the sofa so her stomach became a pillow.  
  
Well, _this_ was intimate, but she just gazed at the TV, now muted in compromise, and watched fading smoke curl through the air like phantom dancers. It smelled so good, she thought, and she could see how one could make this a habit. While her cigarettes calmed her down, they didn't make her feet tingle or food taste better. (In fact they seemed to kill her taste buds.) She wanted to be the cat on Roy's coffee mug, all furry and cozy. To be able to curl herself into a fluffy ball and shut out the world.  
  
So Roy packed another bowl while they watched celebrities chatter meaninglessly, watching the gestures the guests were making on the chat show, and began to supply his own dialogue. Jen broke out laughing like a maniac and lay on her back, giggling at the ceiling. This made Roy laugh as well, and the two could not _stop_ laughing, until finally, wiping the tears from her eyes, Jen asked what was so funny, and Roy said he couldn't remember.

 

* * *

  
  
They spoke about death and morality, and talking cats, and the musical _Cats_ , and why men were dumb and women were crazy. The high hit them full force and they were completely gone by the time they got to the nature of artificial intelligence. The debate was mainly supported by examples from great literature such as the manically depressed robot from _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. Jen and Roy were by no means intellectual, but thinking that they were bonded them. Although, had anyone else overheard their conversation, they'd have gotten sick of their rapidly decreasing coherency.

 

* * *

  
  
They tried to microwave nachos, and Roy found the dearth of shredded cheese packets a huge inconvenience, since trying to wield sharp objects in Jen's kitchen only led to him cutting his fingertips. To avert such an accident, they placed the entire block of mature cheddar on a plate to see if it would melt, and were disappointed when it did not. They ate the nachos with some kind of organic veggie dip instead. Why Jen had nachos and no salsa or cheese, Roy couldn't fathom, so she turned the television volume up to shut out his complaining.

 

* * *

  
  
"We should play a game."  
  
Roy shut his eyes. Jen sat next to him on the sofa with her knees up, the bowl of nachos between them, an unfunny comedy on the screen. They didn't know or care what time it was, but if there was ever a thing to get Roy to leave quick smart, it was this statement.  
  
"I don't feel like it," he said. That wasn't strictly true. He'd love to play a game with Moss right about then, but he doubted his girly manager had any good video games.  
  
"No, you'll like this game. It's a good one, really," Jen said. Roy shook his head, but his energy was gone. How late was it? Nine o'clock? Really? It wasn't four in the morning?  
  
"I doubt it," he said, taking another fistful of nachos. They were almost gone. Roy had an idea for a great game, then. Get some more! He got up, Jen babbling about a drinking game even though they weren't drinking, went to the cabinet and was disappointed to discover that the nachos were gone. He searched for any other snacks and found some biscuits. Score!  
  
" _Roy_ , you're not even listening to me," Jen called from the living room. He made some noncommittal grunts, then came back into the room with the package, a biscuit in his mouth. She had an empty soda bottle on the table in front of her. On its side.  
  
He stopped chewing. "What's that?" he asked.  
  
Jen just laughed. "What's it look like?"  
  
Roy backed up a little and pointed with the biscuit pack. "Far be it for me to make assumptions, but I thought Spin the Bottle needed more than two people."  
  
He suspected then that he'd gotten Jen too high to remember basic rules from adolescence, and looked around the room for these invisible people she'd invited to play. Finding none, he reluctantly approached the sofa, awash with conflicted feelings. This meant what he thought it meant, right? Why else would she pull out Spin the Bottle? Unless she intended to make him snog one of the many frightening teddy bears in her apartment. Ugh.  
  
Jen patted the seat beside her, so Roy sat down, nervously chewing biscuits and avoiding eye contact. He sat as far from her as he could, not because he didn't fancy her, but because Jen tended to be a tad unstable, and gleefully pulling out party games could be a sign she'd snapped. That wasn't the real reason. The real reason was that the last time Jen had shown him interest, she'd just about kicked his arse into the following week to forget it had ever happened.  
  
"Okay, here's how it works..."  
  
Jen explained something far too complicated that did in fact involve snogging scary bears and other inanimate objects. She argued that the odds of the bottle actually landing on one of them was so slight it would not be a concern. Roy could think of a much better game that involved him getting a taxi and never smoking again. He also briefly thought they could play Truth or Dare, which would still involve him possibly snogging Jen, but then again, could also involve her telling him about the puppy her father bought her when she was nine that got hit by a car.  
  
Jen spun the bottle then, Roy's absent nodding being interpreted as consent, and it landed, in fact, on the package of biscuits he'd placed on the table. She picked one up and ate it.  
  
"Your turn," she said. So he spun, and it too landed on something inanimate, albeit not something edible. He gave the vase a peck, then handed the bottle back to his coworker. This was ungodly dull.

* * *

  
  
Somehow he'd gotten her to work Truth or Dare into it. Truth if it landed on a girly object; Dare if it landed on something more practical, like a broom. Running out of objects, discerning which was which became a game in itself. Jen's dares amounted to stupid things like eating hot peppers (easily won!), and Roy's for more dangerous things, like making Jen ring up the neighbor with the terrifying dog. Roy tried to avoid truth by lying, but managed to tell not only his real surname by the end of the night, but also where he was from and why he'd left. Jen did in fact have a dead pet. She'd also lost her virginity embarrassingly late, to Roy's great relief. She _was_ that girl at university!  
  
But the bottle landed on her next, and he looked up, shrugging. "Dare?"  
  
Jen smirked a little. "This is the fourth time it's landed on me and you've avoided the issue."  
  
The silence stretched again, and he didn't look her in the eye. She leaned forward, so he leaned back. She shook her head, smiling.  
  
"I'm not going to bite you."  
  
He licked his lips. "I know that, it's just..."  
  
Jen's face fell. "Oh." She covered her face with her hands. "Oh, God, I feel well stupid!"  
  
Roy tried to pry her hands off her face. "Don't do that, Jen, come on."  
  
It was her turn to look away. "Wow, I'm sorry, I'm just a total--"  
  
But she couldn't finish her sentence because his lips were in the way.  
  
It was over fast. Jen didn't dare open her eyes. All Roy could think was it shut her up at least. The silence was heavenly. He kissed her again.  
  
She tasted like chocolate biscuits, cigarettes, reefer and cola. Her lips were dry but her tongue was pillow soft, and to his delight she kissed back.  
  
After a while, they parted. Roy smiled lazily and Jen reached out a hand to spin the bottle again. It didn't land on him, so she turned it so it would, then leaned forward and kissed him again. They sat on the sofa leaned towards each other, their bodies not touching, like shy teenagers. He cupped her face in one hand and she placed a hand on his leg. The moment stretched out pleasantly, neither wanting to kill the other for one, three, six minutes.  
  
"I'm not one to break the rules," Roy said, spinning the bottle. Watching it land on the broom, he turned it to face Jen. "Ah, well the bottle has spoken." Placing his hand on her hips, he pulled her closer. She obliged, sitting in his lap. And so they gently kissed some more.  
  
The bottle was forgotten, Jen straddling her coworker and switching her attentions from his lips to his ear and neck. She found herself turned on by the little gasps he made, and when his hands wandered down her back to feel her buttocks, she didn't protest.  
  
Bucking her hips, Jen felt something hard poking at her. She smiled and sucked his earlobe, whispering, "Dirty, dirty boy." But then his hard-on did something unusual. It vibrated.  
  
Followed by an obnoxious ringtone, the vibration made Jen laugh shrilly. Roy, on the other hand, silently cursed God. Feeling playful, he felt underneath Jen to retrieve the phone from his pocket. Smiling, the two peered at who it could be. It was who it couldn't _not_ be. Moss.  
  
It was like a meteor had crashed on top of the couple, bringing them swiftly back to Earth and reality and the status quo and every single reason such a union was unholy. Jen got up out of Roy's lap while he answered his mobile and tried to busy herself with the last of the biscuits. She placed the bottle upright for good measure.  
  
"What'd he have to say?"  
  
Roy stood up. "Back in London, said everything's sorted. Father only had a stomach flu." He put his hands in his pockets and drew himself inward. He felt like he'd woken from some kind of dream.  
  
Jen bit her fingernails. "Oh, thank God," she said, not entirely meaning it. But still, it was a good thing. A happy Moss was a happy IT department. And a happy Roy. "He'll probably want to see you," she added.  
  
"Yeah," he said, not looking directly at her. "Er, want me to help clean up?"  
  
Jen waved a hand. "No, no, I've got it. Er, have you got your..." She made a toking gesture. Roy gathered up his pipe, then tried grabbing the nacho bowl, but Jen took it and the biscuits and headed for the kitchenette, waving him away.  
  
"I've got it," she said again. He stood in the middle of the living room, unsure what to do with himself, so he gestured to the door. "Er, I guess I'll be..."  
  
"Going, yeah," Jen finished lamely. They stood facing each other but at a measured distance. Putting her hands in her own pockets, Jen looked around the room.  
  
"You sure you've got everything?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
"Then I guess I'll..."  
  
"See you Monday."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Booking it for the exit, Roy figured she'd want to erase this bit of awkward history too, so there wasn't much point hanging around. Jen followed him out, then stood in the doorway watching him go.  
  
"Wait," she said.  
  
Roy turned, hopeful. But she froze.  
  
"Never mind," Jen said. "I'll see you."  
  
Roy nodded, then turned to leave. Jen went back inside and shut the door.

 

* * *

  
  
At Moss' mother's apartment, Roy waited outside for Moss to come down. When he emerged, they headed for the nearest chip shop, chatting about the Moss Family Crisis. Then the subject changed to Roy's Friday night and he let slip that he'd gotten Jen high. This was unable to be imagined. He told Moss about all the dares he'd gotten her to do, and the microwave cheddar experiment, and the godawful chat shows. He left out any mention of snogging, but it was apparently obvious nonetheless.  
  
"You kissed her, didn't you?"  
  
Afraid to admit it, Roy denied it fervently, until finally giving in.  
  
"Fine, just a little. What about it?"  
  
It was a commendable victory, but their lives would be made a living Hell. Moss was bursting with happiness for Roy, although he'd be fired for sure. Moss' ambivalence was through the roof.  
  
When prodded as to why he came out to see Moss instead of staying behind at Jen's to see what would happen with her, Roy's all prior reasoning melted away and he felt like the hugest idiot to grace Earth's surface.  
  
"Oh my God!" he cried, repeating this many times with several different inflections.  
  
Imagining every romantic comedy ever, the two thought of several ways for Roy to run back to her flat to profess his love and apologize for being a total wanker. None of them seemed right, so he texted her instead.

 

* * *

  
  
Jen was just about to shut off her phone when the distinct beep sounded that meant she'd received a text. On it was a frowny face with a "Sorry." Well, that could be anyone, Jen thought. But it was Roy, for sure. _Stupid prick._ She almost shut the phone down when another text came right after saying, "I think ur fit."  
  
She almost smiled, but was this enough to win her back? No! Another text came from Moss' mobile number instead, saying, "4give him plz, he won't shuttup." This got a giggle (still slightly feeling it from the pot), so she texted Moss back, "Tell him he's fired."  
  
But she pressed send before adding a wink, so Moss soberly told him.  
  
She got another text from Roy. "U can't fire me, I fire u."  
  
Just about sick of this, Jen rung him up. Moss answered.  
  
"Oh hi Jen, Roy's absolutely furious. You really shouldn't have fired him. And over a text!"  
  
"Put him on the phone, Moss."  
  
"Can't. He's run off."  
  
Clearly able to hear him fuming, Jen rolled her eyes. "Where'd he go, Moss?"  
  
"Er...To..." She heard Roy supply the location. "To Japan. I mean Ireland. Why don't you just ask him?"  
  
"Jen, this is an outrage. You can't fire me over sexual harassment when it was clearly your idea to play Spin the Bottle."  
  
"What are you talking about, Roy? I was joking!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Roy, I fancy you, okay?"  
  
There was silence.  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes, you bloody idiot!"  
  
More silence. She could hear him and Moss arguing.  
  
"Well I fancy you as well," Roy said, in that over-articulated way he often did when trying to get a point across.  
  
"Well it seems we're just about on the same page, then."  
  
She could hear Moss ordering chips.  
  
"Jen," Roy replied, an edge in his voice. "Will you still fancy me tomorrow? Because we're kind of getting chips."  
  
Jen smiled. "Of course. Get your chips. I'll see you Monday."  
  
"See you Monday."  
  
Jen put the phone down and rolled her eyes. _Those two!_  
  
Oh, no.  
  
Well, Monday would be interesting.  
  
Jen went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Vigorously. Then she opened all the windows, turned on all the fans, and tried to blow the lingering smoke out into the street. She sprayed some vanilla air freshener, which covered the scent of weed quite nicely. Sitting down on her sofa, she picked up the remote and turned the television off. Gazing at its silver surface, she looked at her reflection in the glass. Was this really her life? A year before she'd never thought it would be. Sighing, she lay down and shut her eyes. And remembered hot smoke in her lungs and warm hands on her back.


End file.
